staring down the sun

[6] beg for the rest of my life

"Ms. Jensen, what do you know about the MacManus brothers?"

Elena feels her body tense up under the man's gaze as he thumbs through a file folder. This guy is an asshole, she knows that even after just meeting him. Hell, every guy from the FBI is an asshole. Well, with maybe one or two exceptions.

She takes a deep breath and calmly responds. "I know what's in their file and what they tell me in their therapy sessions."

Agent Walsh leans back, his Texas belly protruding out and over his ugly brown belt. He looks like the stereotypical no-nonsense detective from some cable drama, and he's about to get into a dick-measuring contest with whoever dares to challenge him. "How long have you been working with them?"

"Three months."

Walsh nods slightly, still rifling through the file folder. "What have you discussed?"

Elena can't help the small chuckle that escapes her mouth. "That's confidential, sir. "

He smiles, but it's a pissed-off kind of smile. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Unless they plan on hurting themselves or hurting others, everything they say stays in that room."

"So if they had a plan to hurt others, you would disclose that, correct?"

"Of course. But the MacManus brothers have not—"

"Did either of them tell you about their plan to escape Hoag Maximum Security Prison?"

Her blood rushes throughout her body as she clenches her jaw. "They escaped..." Is that a question? A statement? Maybe both. She's surprised, and yet not at the same time. And this is how she finds out. "No, neither one of them told me they were planning to escape."

Walsh narrows his eyes. "Cut the crap. You're their fucking therapist. Aren't they supposed to tell you their deep dark secrets?"

"If you were ever in therapy, you'd know that's not how this works, even for prisoners. They tell me what they want to tell me, what they feel comfortable telling me. I'm not there to gather evidence for your witch hunt."

He stands up, taking a deep breath as he removes his jacket. "So, you didn't know they were going to escape."

Elena presses her lips together. "No."

"How does that make you feel?" He laughs as he sees the confusion on her face. "You seem to be pretty close with them." He opens another file folder, pulls out a couple of photos, and places them in front of her. They're stills from the video surveillance. "Especially this one," he sneers as he taps the image from three days ago: Connor is being cuffed but looking at Elena as she stands beside the table with her arms folded. "How does it feel knowing that he didn't tell you?"

To his credit, Walsh thinks he's hit a nerve. Sure, she's surprised, but now she's more pissed off about this narrative the FBI is trying to fabricate by using her. That's not how this is supposed to go.

She straightens back in her chair, looking Walsh square in the eyes. "I can't make someone tell me everything. Just like you can't."

He suddenly throws his chair across the floor and clearly holds back every filthy nickname he wants to call her. "Get out."

Elena keeps her voice firm, asking, "I'm free to go?"

He doesn't look at her, and exhales his answer. "For now."

Even though she wants to run, she has to remain calm as she leaves. Her heart betrays her though, beating wildly as she walks down the hallway. Hopefully, Walsh can't hear her heartbeat.